“But no cocoa.”
His eyes snap to the side of my face.
“You don’t seem to like cocoa,” I say.
“You noticed that?”
My gaze drifts to his, lazily. It feels like we have all the time in the world, like if we stay locked in this bubble of giddy happiness, we can be here as long as we want.
“Yeah,” I say. “Plus, it’s majorly offensive to diss on the cocoa.Like, that’s all anyone talks about, how unforgivable it is that Prince Hex cringes overmelted chocolate in a mug.We’re questioning if you’re even human.”
“Oh, I’m not, but—and I truly mean this with no offense to Christmas’s sensitive disposition—whatever you’re serving isnotmelted chocolate in a mug.”
I pick up the coffee carafe, but Hex shakes his head and grabs for the tea. I nudge him away and make it for him, face heating, because… how did Renee and Lacie know?Didthey know? They couldn’t have known I was bringing this toHex.Did they? No.
Did they?
Choosing to ignore this.
“What is it, then?” I hand the cup to him.
He takes it, fingers brushing mine. “Watery.”
I gasp in mock horror. “Oh, Christmas will never forgive you. Our hot cocoa is notwatery.”
He sips the tea. I track the movement of his lips on the rim.
“Come to Mexico,” he says, “and I’ll give yourealcacao. Frothy and thick and decadent. Andspicytoo. If you can handle heat.”
My lips split in a wide smile. “Oh, I can handle it.”
The grin he gives is all devilish, hypnotic.
He closes one hand, the other still holding his tea, and when he opens his fist, something small and black sits in his hand. A—tube? A plunger?
I give him a sultry look. “Kinky.”
He rolls his eyes. “It’scandy.You said you can handle heat—and this is theextraspicy version.”
I take it and read the label. “‘Pelon Pelo Rico. Hot, Intenso.’ Lovely. Likely not something kinky after all, then.”
He sips his tea again, his eyes going purposefully to the tube of candy. As if I need any further incentive to do whatever the fuck he asks of me.
I pull off the cap, and after some fiddling, figure out that it is a plunger of sorts, and when I push on it, orange goo shoots up in tendrils from the top.
“Cheers.” I tip it at Hex and his watchful grin then squirt a mouthful across my tongue.
At first, it’s only salty and sweet, more savory than the sugary treats I’m used to.
Then.
Spice hits me, a tingle at the back of my throat that rises. And rises. And ignites into a flame that makes every white person cell in my body scream out in terror.
I cough and sputter but swallow, obediently, scorching my throat all the way down.
Hex curls his lips into his mouth. “How’s that heat handling for you?”
“What heat?” I grab for a cup of coffee and gulp it.
